Il ne reviendra pas
by Blagoonga
Summary: 17 June, 1996. Narcissa waits for Lucius on the night he's captured in the Department of Mysteries.


It's the night when Lucius is captured in the Dept. of Mysteries, and Narcissa waits for him in a anniversary party in their mansion.

This is my first published fanfiction, be nice** :)**

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The night seemed to be lasting forever.

The windows in the manor showed nothing but darkness, although the fire inside the lamps was burning out there, in the garden, it just didn't seem to emit any light. On the contrary, all the lights inside were on, but Narcisa held herself alone in the dark of his office just for a moment, before she had to go back to the living room and pretend everything was fine.

Nothing was fine.

Her husband was late for their anniversary party, and even though it was normal – he was always late for those reunions – and it was only an hour or so, she knew something was off.

An urge to send an owl to Hogwarts and require Draco's returning home suddleny born inside Narcisa's chest. It was the right thing to do if something happened. She needed her child next to her, it was the only thing that would give her strength and keep her sane. If his father was… she couldn't even think of the word, if something occurred to Lucius, their son should be at home, where he would find some comfort.

So she sat on his chair and placed her hands on top of his desk. The cold wood felt so strange under her fingers. That room was so very him. All in it screamed Lucius, and to be seated where he was a few hours back was disarming. Where was he? He never forgot their anniversary, he never disappeared without a warning before. Why didn't he send her an owl?

She tried fighting all of her grief and took a clean piece of parchment, where she wrote a few words in an impeccable calligraphy, directed to Albus, saying she needed Draco at home immediately due to urgent family matters. She signed, folded it and put it inside an envelope. Lucius' owl sat inside its cage on a corner of the office and was awake when Narcisa strapped the object on its leg.

It flew out the open window and she followed the flight while the wind blew cold on her face, drying her eyes and preparing her for a very long night. A long and trembling sigh fell from the blonde's lips and her eyes closed for a second, allowing a calm expression, so familiarly rehearsed, to come upfront and replace the hopelessness in her face.

Unconscious steps took her back to the living room and to the presence of those invited there. There were so many. And there were so many more absent guests that she could not help herself thinking the worst.

The house was redecorated with light colors and filled with roses of an entire range of colors. Even the paintings hanging on the walls were properly in the party's mood, appreciating their cups of champagne, in elegant garments. But the surroundings so beautifully adorned for such a special occasion made the situation much more painful to face.

She pushed her desperate worriness to a corner in her mind, and faked a smile to a distant cousin that came to congratulate her and ask where her husband was. The blonde forced a polite and dry answer that made the next inconvenience go back to the acquaintance's throat. That was not the first, nor the last.

It was the worst night of her life. It dragged through repetitive questions and repetitive answers, jokes at the dinner table that only made her feel so much more alone – that would have been a moment filled of exchanged glances between her and Lucius, that would say everything on how dull all those attemps to be funny were –, and then, tiring efforts to extend the evening, in the hope that Lucius would show up.

She never wished so much in her entire life that they would just… go home. How could she possibily enjoy an evening while knowing something horrible must have happened to her husband? To _her_ husband. To _her_ Lucius. There were so many "what ifs". So many.

That night, when everybody finally left, and all the lights were turned off, Narcisa cried herself to sleep, holding one of his shirts, completely alone. And she knew that would be a recurring fact, she just knew he was not coming back.


End file.
